


It Isn't Over

by orphan_account



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, The loss still stings, Wrote some angst to cope, i hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 13:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19210477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Short fic about what Brad is feeling after the loss as well as some grade A comforting with his hockey soulmate





	It Isn't Over

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first hockey work. I usually only write in 1st person so this is an adventure. Wrote some sad but kinda happy Bergy/Marchy to satiate my sadness after that soul crushing game. Worst part about this is that I gotta wait til the next season for more interactions between those two. I cry. Hopefully this isn't complete crap.

Time seemed to move in slow motion after the clock wound down to zero. He was only partially aware of a bunch of blue blurs celebrating on the far side of the ice as well as black and gold ones kneeling next to him. 

His ears were ringing with the sound of cheers erupting all around him as well as the sound of his own sobs. He barely felt the tears roll down his cheeks as an arm was placed around his shoulder.

“Come on. You don’t need to see this,” whispered a familiar calm voice.

When he looked up he could see tears threatening to fall from Patrice’s beautiful brown eyes. He could see how much pain he was in and it struck him to see just how strong he really was. Here they were moments after the worst loss of their careers and he was still their stoic leader, fearless as always.

Brad had always tried to be like him, but he knew he was failing rather miserably right now, if his red eyes and wet cheeks weren’t obvious enough. He sniffed and rubbed his face with a glove as he was led off the ice and down to the locker room. 

It's almost over, he thought.

A media scrum would hound them for a few minutes with their useless questions before finally getting the hint to let them be alone. After that he could go home and disappear under a big comforter on his bed. His pads were barely off when the monsters came for him. The answers he gave were in his voice, but he felt like he was on autopilot. Some force from within had come out to relieve him if only for a few minutes.

“I mean, that’s playoff hockey. You’re not going to dominate every game, you’re not going to score every goal. It is what it is. Obviously, we hold ourselves to a high standard, and we would’ve liked to be better. That’s hockey.”

“I love these guys. We had a hell of a year. We came very close. I love every guy on this team and I’m very proud of everyone. They worked their ass off all year to get to this point. We came together, we’re like a family. It hurts.”

“We thought we were going to do it. We had that belief we’ve had all year, we’ve done it plenty of times. It takes one goal to get going and swing the momentum, we just didn’t get that one early enough.”

“It’s tough to describe. They just took our dream, our lifetime dream, from us, and everything we’ve worked for our entire lives. And 60 minutes away from that, you can’t describe it.”

Question after question came his way and each was getting harder to answer than the last. He felt himself almost shatter after a particular gut wrenching one.

“Was this the most painful loss of your career?”

“By far,” he could barely hear his own answer.

After they left, the doors were closed and locked, shielding them from the outside world. Bruce gave them a hopeful speech, but even he sounded empty. Next was Zee, his eyes rimmed with red as he forced out the words from his injured jaw. Backes and Krecji said some things, but he tuned them out. The only person he saw was Bergy who was now up to give his own take on the situation. 

As he stood in front of them he didn’t mince his words. He knew what everyone was feeling. He knew it was going to sting for a while. He also knew that this wasn’t the end and that they would always have another shot. His speech ended with a huge thank you to each and every teammate for all they did through the season. After that, the guys started to pack up. 

“Brad? Are you ok?” his lover asked quietly.

“I don’t know.”

It was as if Patrice could read his mind, for when he turned to look at him with tearful eyes, the taller man merely opened his arms and pulled him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around his back with equal force, never wanting to let go. There they stood in the middle of the locker room, two perfectly matched souls in a sea of chaos. 

The hug would’ve probably never ended if Chara hadn’t walked over to talk to Patrice. Brad reluctantly let go and left them to their goodbyes while he finished throwing his stuff into his bag. He went through the motions and hugged the guys as they came and went. Everyone was running on fumes by now. 

It was only when he closed the car door that he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. The ride home was a silent one, but Patrice kept a hand on his the entire way. It thankfully kept him grounded as he processed him emotions.

They didn't bother with their stuff in the car when they got home. There was a silent agreement between both of them that they could just take it all inside tomorrow whenever they got out of bed. It was when they got to the couch that it finally happened—Bergy collapsed in his arms and started to sob. This hurt more than anything else and he wished, oh how he wished that he could just take away all his pain.

“Berg don't cry. Please don't cry,” hey cooed, rubbing the other man’s back. “We’ll be fine.”

“I know we will. I do. It just hurts. I feel absolutely useless.”

“Don’t you dare! You did the best you could. Hell, did you fuck up a line change? No? Then you’re already doing better than me.”

“I still could’ve done more. I couldn’t even score one lousy goal.”

“The whole team was off. A single player can’t lose it. It was all of us. Did you listen to the speech you gave not 30 minutes ago? Next season it all resets and we will have another chance to make things right. It hurts right now. It hurts a lot, but it isn't forever.”

“What if we can’t get back?” 

“We will! Did you see all those tears? Did you hear how sad they were? No one wants to feel like this and it’ll be our drive. Next season we will use this experience as a reminder of what happens when we don't give it our all.”

It was here that Patrice pulled away and put a hand on either side of his face. He stared at him with a look of pure adoration and maybe even a hint of renewed determination.

“At least they can never take you away from me. You’re mine forever.”

That drew a small smile from him. “You’ll never lose me, I won’t allow it.”

They shared a loving kiss before finally making their way up the stairs. True to his word, Brad immediately curled into a ball under the blanket, but he also had Patrice glued to him. 

For the first time that night he allowed himself to truly relax. He may have lost, but he still had his team. He still had Patrice Bergeron, the most perfect man he had ever met. And most importantly, he still had a fire inside him, now burning brighter than ever, and a will to never feel like this again.


End file.
